


A Refelection of Stars

by LarKire



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Beleriand, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Coming of Age, Dagor Bragollach, Dorthonion, During Canon, Elves, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Issues, First Age, Humans, Immortality, My First Fanfic, POV Female Character, Romantic Friendship, Sad Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarKire/pseuds/LarKire
Summary: Wen she first met him she was mesmerized. Hair like the sun and eyes full of starlight. She did not truly understand the distance between Elves and Men yet. However, as time passes and she gives her heart to one of them and it is broken in turn she comes to understand the unsurmountable rift between their people.
Relationships: Aegnor | Ambaráto/Andreth | Saelind
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After I’ve been reading fanfic for years now I finally managed to muster up my motivation to write and post my own. I've noticed a severe lack of fanfic on this specific pairing (especially long/multichapter) and as I am a complete mush for tragic romances this story has always been own of my favourites. So I decided to write own myself. This fanfic is going to follow their entire story (from first meeting to you know… the bitter end). I'm going to try to keep the story as close to the legendarium as possible, which means I generally try to work in the confines of what is written (which to be fair is not that much) I also try to build in some of the larger ongoings of the specific time period however these will probably be relatively minor. (of course their might still be small inconsistencies)  
> Also to be as upfront as possible: This is the first story I ever posted, I’m not a native english speaker and have a learning disability. Therefore, despite spellchecker and reading over everything their will probably still be some mistakes or weird expressions. So feel free to point does out to me and I will try to fix them. I hope to get at least some reviews and are definitely open to feedback and constructive criticism.   
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.  
> Now to the story!

369 F.A.

‘Beril! Beril! Where are you?’

Andreth was really annoyed, no... she was furious. She had hoped to join Bregor’s weapon practice. Instead she had spent nearly all day watching her sister, Beril. At four years old barely able to complete her own sentences she had insisted on a game of hide and seek. For the last hour Andreth had chased her through their father’s house outside into the wide courtyard, where she had lost her sister again. 

‘Come out! I’m bored! I don’t wanna play anymore!’ 

Her calls remained unanswered. Her frustration started to boil up inside of her. All she wanted to do was go find her brother and join his lessons. Breor the old weapon instructor had the appearance of a wild bear, but at the very least she wouldn’t be bored out of her mind.

Hastily she stepped to the side avoiding the hurried steps of a group of servant women. Some of them threw a few annoyed glances in her direction. Andreth ignored them. The adults had been busy since early sunrise. In fact, it had started when a group of strangers had arrived. Andreth hadn’t seen them yet, they had come in before she woken up and spend the entire time with her father in his study. Merely thinking about a group of mysterious strangers and the fantastical tales they could be telling her father was less boring then running after her little sister.

‘Beril! I’m serious I won’t be playing this stupid ga…’ 

‘Andreth! What in the world are screeching on about!’ Clapping her mouth shut, Andreth spun around and looked up at the stout, but handsome women looking disapprovingly down at her. Instantly, she felt her heart sink into her stomach. Elwen’s stern expression told her she was about to be severely scolded by the housekeeper.

‘I’m playing with Beril...’, she began.

‘I do not care what you two were doing. What matters is that you can not go running and screaming about, while others are doing their work. Especially on a day like this. If you think you have that much useless time at hand, then let me tell you I will…’ While Andreth had stood before the angry women, hanging her head and kicking dust with her small boots, she had glimpsed a small slip of a girl storming past the kitchen entry. 

‘Hey! I’ve got you!’, the boredom of before and the anxiety of the scolding evaporated nearly instantly. The excitement of the game reignited in her chest. She took off, running after her sister. Their laughter filled the air, multiple servants and soldier of the household had to spring aside as the whirlwind of childish screams ran past them.

‘Wait where are you going little lady?!’, Elwen’s indignated screams remained completely ignored as both girls stormed among many wild cries past the main entrance of the house.

Beril was running in the direction of the closest of three storage buildings, probably planning to go hide again. However, due to being nearly twice her age and nearly being taller by half Andreth managed to catch up quickly. 

‘You won’t get away! I’m gonna ge…AH!’

Abruptly, she came to stop as she crashed into a solid barrier that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Scrambling back to her feet she tried to look for Beril, but her vision was filled by a group of three tall figures. She raised her gaze up… and up. A small gasp left her, as she realised these were the mysterious strangers.

They were tall, taller even than Breor and he was as big as a bear. Her eyes immediately locked onto the closest of the strangers, the one with whom she must have collided, her breath seemed to completely leave her chest and she starred. He was beautiful! She stood speechless, gapping up at him. His entire being emanating a bright, warm light. The sun shone in his golden hair and his eyes were filled with the beautiful light of clear night sky filled with stars. He crouched down before her, a gentle smile pulling up his lips.

‘You seem to be in a hurry’, his voice had a strange melodic quality.

‘I... I was chasing Beril.’, slowly she managed to regain her voice, growing more confident she said, ‘She has been hiding nearly all of noon!’

His smile widened into a grin.

‘Beril? Would that be the little Adan zipping past just a moment ago?’

She nodded enthusiastically, her initial shyness leaving her completely. 

‘Andreth! What are you…!’ Just then Andreth spotted her father hurrying at them, his face was pulled into a frown as he addressed the stranger crouching in front of her. 

‘My Lord, I have to apologize. My daughter is usually not this unruly, but she is only eight… somebody should have been supervis…’ 

‘It’s fine Boromir. There is no need to apologize. It is always a pleasure to see children freely play and laugh, especially in these times.’

Turning back to her the star eyed stranger smiled mischievously. ‘If you are searching for little Beril, look in the kitchens. She did not stay long in the warehouse.’ 

She eyed him suspiciously.

’Are you sure? How can you tell?’

‘I have my ways.’

He answered her before standing back up and turning to her father. She scowled up at him, that wasn’t helpful at all. The stranger and her father started discussing boring things about some distant cousin leaving and something about supplies or whatever.

They walked in the direction of the stables the two other strangers following close behind. Before her attention had been entirely occupied by the sun haired stranger, but now she mustered them closely as they walked away. Both had long dark hair and were as tall as he was, however, she came quickly to the decision that despite their fair faces they weren't as awe inspiring nor as striking. She simply had never seen such bright golden hair. All of her father’s people had dark hair and dark or grey eyes. After the strangers had vanished from sight, she ran off to go look for her sister. She was curious if he had been right about Beril being in the kitchens. 

Later that day after Andreth had been able to finally catch Beril in the kitchens, they were both immediately discovered by a furious Elwen. She had been scrubbing many pots as punishment while Beril had been send to her room under strict supervision.

That evening her father visited her room. His soft knock at the door was directly followed by the soft squeaking of the door. She sat up in her bed, while he sat down next to her. He looked at her for what seemed like a small eternity. His bright grey eyes stood in a stark contrast to the lines in his weary face. With a sigh he reached out and ran his rough hand over her head.

‘Andreth,’ he said,’Do you know who the Lord was you met today?’ 

The hesitation before her answer betrayed her ignorance.

‘You called him a Lord but he called you by name. Nobody ever does that, father.’ A gentle smile appeared on his face. 

‘Yes, nobody of this the House of Beör does that. But we live in Dorthonion and this land is not our own it belongs to King Finrod of the Nargothrond.’ 

‘But… isn't Finrod an elven King in the South?’ Andreth frowned, trying to remember her lesson about the Kingdoms of Beleriand.

‘Yes, you’re right! That is why his Brothers hold these northern highlands for him and we, the people of Beör, owe our loyalty to them as our lieges.’ 

‘Oh!’ Her face cleared as she started to realize what her father was telling her; excitement began to rush through her as she came to a further realization.

‘They were Elves!’ 

‘They call themselves the Eldar. But, it is important for you…’ She stopped listening to her father as her childish fancies got the better of her and she started babbling.

‘I always taught Elves were so much different. But they almost looked human. He was really pretty, though… like really pretty. Are they all that pretty? And glowing eyes. Are the tales through that…’

The hearty laughter of her father stopped her waterfall of words. 

‘Yes, the Eldar are famous for their beauty. They seem to have left quite the impression on you.’ 

‘Who was he?’ she asked curiously.

Her father seemed to know immediately who of the three she meant, answered her more seriously.

‘He is one of King Finrod’s brothers Lord Aegnor, who guards the Northern border together with his brother Lord Angrod against the enemy. He came today to discuss with me some important matters. These are hard times, especially this close to the enemy. This is why I came to talk with you. I have been thinking… With your mother gone and you getting older…’, he cleared his throat and suddenly seemed to fidget nervously with the edge of her blanket.

‘Your uncle Belemir has written to me… a few weeks ago by now… I was not sure before, but I am done stalling and decided it is for the best. I have decided to send you to your uncle’s Household. Your aunt Adanel is a wise-woman and has been childless up till now, she will look after your education. It will do you good to grow up in the presence of another woman.’

Shocked she stared up at her father.

‘You send me away!’ Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears. 

‘Not forever! But times are getting only harder and their home is farther south you would be safer there.’

‘What about Beril?’ She squeaked, trying to keep the snivel out of her voice, her sight already blurry with tears.

Her father’s sigh was already answer enough. ‘She is still very young, and the journey is not short… Adanel wishes to teach you, Beril wouldn’t be able to follow and end up a hassle. No, she will remain here at least for now.’

Finally, she lost the battle with her tears and she started to cry openly.

‘Now, now. Please don’t cry!’ Her father moved forward and enclosed her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. ‘You will be fine. All will be fine…’ His calm words slowly calmed her down, until she drifted into a deep sleep, momentarily not caring that the person comforting her and sending her away from her home were one and the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of each chapter I will try to include a small list of word/name explanations or other useful information. I will try to make everything as clear as possible inside the chapter. This will just be in case.
> 
> In the year 369 F.A. Bereg (cousin of Boromir) leaves Beleriand and marches south with 1000 men. Andreth is 8 years old at this point, while her brother Bregor is 10 and her sister is 4. Their father Boromir at this point is the chieftain of the House of Beör.   
> Breor and Elwen are both OCs. There will probably a few more just to flesh out the story a little more, but they all be pretty minor characters.
> 
> Since their haven’t been really any elvish words been used everything else should be pretty self explanatory.  
> Except maybe: Adan (sing.), Edain (plur.) = Men of Beleriand


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being send to live with her aunt and uncle, Andreth spends her time assisting her aunt Adanel and learning the lore of her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These first 5 or so chapters will continue a few time skips between them. The date is indicated everytime so it shouldn’t be too confusing.  
> I also wanna thank MaeJacksonBlue16, starlightwalking and the guests for commenting and the kudos already :)  
> I also will try to improve the layout and space things out a little more. Let me know if I can change/improve anything else.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.

372 F.A.

A knock interrupted Andreth’s concentration.

‘Adanel asked if you have finished yet?’

She looked up and saw Geldir standing in the door. Her exacerbated expression morphed into a tired smile. She raised her hand from their wretched task and unconsciously pushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face not realising that she left a dark smear of coal on her forehead. 

‘No, not yet! But tell her I’m nearly done.’

Geldir smiled sympathetically and nodded before she turned and made to close the door again.

‘Sure, will do! Don’t be too long and …’ 

As her voice trailed off, she gestured up to her forehead before the door fell shut with a thud.  
Andreth’s shoulders dropped back down as she stared at her unfinished thankless task. The grey stone bowl before her was filled with powdery coal… no there were still some big shunks left. Grumbling she picked the pestle back up and started fervidly to ground down on the content inside the mortar. 

If Geldir had been sent to ask after her than this meant probably that Geldir was finished with her tasks for the day and was free to go home and enjoy her free time. Small seeds of envy began to grow inside off her chest.  
The other girl was merely two years her senior and was therefore her closest friend in her uncle’s household.  
However, in this particular moment she couldn’t help the bitterness rising up. Geldir didn’t have to fill her entire days with thankless little task for her aunt Adanel. She didn’t have to spend her nights reading whatever scripture Adanel deemed important. And most certainly she did not have to leave her family to do so. No, Geldir could go home each evening like she was probably doing right now. 

Andreth took a deep breath calming her harsh thoughts. No, she shouldn’t be mad at Geldir, nor Adanel. Both had been nothing but kind to her since she arrived in her uncle’s house over three years ago.  
She dipped her fingers into the mortar, checking for any big chunks of coal left. Satisfied with the result she picked up the ladle inside of a bucket of water she had cumbersomely pulled up from the well and brought inside the small study. 

After she poured some water onto the ground down coal, she added some of the precious sap she had spend half the day gathering in the adjacent forest and began stirring the mixture into a dark slightly gooey fluid.  
Again, she dipped the tip of her fingers into the bowl checking if she got the consistency right. Perfect. This time Adanel would have nothing to complain… beside her tardiness maybe. Next, she poured the ink into a small jar and quickly corked it before it could start to dry out again.  
Hastily she dipped her darkened hands into the left-over water in the bucket scrubbing at the coal smeared up to her elbows.  
After that she pulled off her dirty apron and tossed it next to the bucket. She grabbed the ink jar and hurried out off her small study into the corridor towards Adanel’s rooms.

Impatiently Andreth threw open the door after a short knock and stormed into the small candle lit room. Adanel sat at a small wooden desk studying a big book in the midst of parchments and scrolls.  
Her long blond hair was restrained by a loose braid. It shone nearly golden in the dim light. Along with her blue eyes this visibly marked her as a member of the House of Marach. Andreth still remembered clearly her awe when she first met the woman, only once before had she seen someone of that colouring and he hadn’t even been human.  
Calmly the older woman raised her gaze and looked at Andreth with discernable authority. 

‘Andreth, my dear, what are you in a hurry for?’

Andreth previously proud grin made place for a small grimace.

‘I’m sorry Adanel, but I finished the ink and came to show you immediately… This time it is perfect!’ 

Quickly, she stepped over to the desk and put the jar in front of Adanel.  
Her aunt offered her a small smile and before picking it up she gestured to her forehead. Andreth felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment and began to furiously scrub at her forehead. 

At the same time Adanel held the ink jar up to the flickering light to evaluate the ink’s consistency. During this process Andreth anxiously gripped her hands behind her back and began to rock on the balls of her feet. In the meantime, Adanel pulled a used parchment and a quill closer, uncorked the jar and dipped the tip of her quill inside. She made a few precise scribbles onto the parchment before looking back up at Andreth with a slightly wider smile.

‘Yes, you did well! And only slightly late.’

Her last remark was softened by the humourous glint in her bright eyes.  
Instead of resealing the jar again she pulled another this time unused parchment close and flipped a few pages back through the big tome in front of her. She dipped her quill back into the ink and began to copy the first passage of the page in front of her.  
Andreth pulled a small stool close to her busy aunt and sat down, patiently observing her task.  
Curiously she leaned a little closer, considering asking after the book. She read the elegant script on the page:

The white snakeroot has many uses. It can be used a poultice can be used to treat the swelling of a snake bite. The smoke from burning leaves can revive the unconscious…

Andreth grimaced. Herbs and plants. Her aunt’s teachings were interesting and fascinated her in many ways. However, she simply could not stand the dull lectures on a hundred different plants and every single thing they were used for. 

‘What is the use of witch hazel?’

Startled Andreth looked up and cringed a little as she realised that Adanel intended one of her impromptu test questions.

‘It is used for… skin rashes and… ah infections?’  
Her aunts raised a serene eyebrow never looking up from her task.  
‘Is that a question?’  
‘No?’  
‘How would you prepare it for this particular use?’  
Andreth cringed again. Great, that meant she probably forgot one of its applications.  
‘You grind down the bark into a paste and put it on the affected area...also the leaves, I think?’  
‘Another question?’  
‘...No.’

This time Adanel looked up and gave her a stern look. After a small sigh she put her quill down and closed the ink jar before giving Andreth her full attention.  
‘Andreth, you are very clever. I know you are capable of learning this lore if only you applied yourself more. You can’t be so unsure of yourself, especially as a wisewoman. People will look up to you.’  
Andreth let out a frustrated breath.  
‘I know. I know. But it is just a lot and sometimes I can get things a little confused. But I knew the answers!’  
At the look that Adanel gave her her insides cramped together. Quickly in order to show her interest for Adanel’s lessons she continued:  
‘But I like the lore of our people. Yesterday you said it was impressive that I could list the entire tale of Baran the Second! And if you wouldn’t mind I would love if you could continue the tale of Beör the Old.’

Adanel’s stern expression made way for a small smile. Andreth couldn’t help but mirror her aunt and showed a smile of her own, knowing that she managed to get her way.

‘Alright. You already know how the the House of Beör was established?’  
‘Yes! Afterward Beör the Old left his son as the chieftain and went with the elves… eh I mean with the Eldar. But what happened after that? Where did he go?’  
Amusement played on Adanel’s face at her eagerness.  
‘He went with Nòm for he had become a dear friend of the elvish Lord. He lived with them for forty-four years before he died. The elves sent messengers to your great grandfather telling him that his passing was peaceful.’

Slightly disappointed by the lack of great adventures Andreth continued her questions:  
‘What about Marach? He is your ancestor, isn’t he? Did he also join the Eldar?’  
‘No, my people came into Beleriand some time after yours. While Beör and his people were given these lands by the King of Nargothrond, our liege is High King Fingolfin and we were taken into his lands in Hithlum. But the House of Marach never managed to create that close of ties with the Eldar than Beör’s did.’  
‘What do you mean do they do not get along?’  
‘No, they get along fine… However, they don’t have much contact at all. The elvish Lords of Hithlum like to keep a certain distance with us humans.’  
‘Ah…’, Andreth’s face cleared up,’but that isn’t so different than us!’  
‘I suppose so, but the Lords of Dorthonion tend to be much more forthcoming with our people. Look!’  
Adanel pointed at the large book lying still open on the desk.  
‘This manuscript was sent to me by your father. It was gifted to him by the Eldar among many other things.’  
Surprised Andreth starred at the book. No wonder it the script looked so elegant.  
‘But aren't they still very distant? If they can give us such books why do they not meet more often with humans?’  
Adanel’s face took on a thoughtful expression as she nodded slowly.  
‘I can see how you could think that. But you have to keep in mind that the Eldar are not like us. They live a long time. Remember that Nòm the Wise, who first met your great-great-grandfather, still rules in Nargothrond.’  
‘I... haven’t thought about that. But they could still…’ She hesitated unsure of herself before slowly realising.  
‘Do you mean they don’t want to see us die?’  
Adanel nodded proudly at her realisation.  
‘Exactly! Think about it, you spend your whole life aging and they will forever remain the same. You might envy them for that and that certainly is envyable. But, every human friend they ever make will slowly die as time goes on and that is why they cannot bear to close the distance between our people... At least that is what I believe.’ 

The insecurity in that final statement surprised Andreth. She paused thoughtfully before asking her next question.  
‘Do you know a lot about them? The Eldar, I mean.’  
Her aunt grimaced a little.  
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more about them. I think that is one of the topics that your father would know the most off. As the chieftain of House Beör he meets them quite frequently I recon.’  
‘Oh!’, her disappointment made quickly way for excitement, as an old memory resurfaced in her mind.  
‘I think I met one once! I was still young, but I remember seeing one! I even talked with him!’  
This time Adanel’s face was filled with surprise.  
‘You did! Then I should be the one pestering you with questions.’  
Andreth let out a laugh at that statement. Her aunt’s gaze fell upon the candles flickering on her desk, growing dimmer.  
‘Oh, my! We’ve been idly chatting for awhile. I think it is time you go to bed, Andreth.’  
‘Alright, Aunt Adanel.’  
Andreth stood up and put the stool back into corner next to the door.  
‘Here, Andreth, this is for you.’  
She looked at the small scroll her aunt was holding out for her. She stared at the unbroken seal. The seal of the chieftain of the House of Beör. Her fathers.  
‘Here’, Adanel gently pushed the letter into her suddenly clammy hands.  
‘If you want you can take the ink and some parchment to write a response.’  
Andreth only nodded quickly grabbing the ink jar and the quill and sheet of parchment Adanel offered her. After a subdued ‘Good night’ she hurried out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Andreth should be around 11 years old. Geldir is an Oc. I did research the ink-making process and the two herbs; however I do not vouch for their accuracy. Concerning the vocabulary there shouldn’t be anything major this time around.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andreth grows up in her Aunt Adanel's home, learning the skilly of a wisewoman. However, a great challenge quickly aproaches putting her skills on the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The second half of this chapter was especially hard to write this time so I hope you all like it.  
> Many thanks to SecretlyThranduil, SapphirePearl and starlightwalking for commenting and/or the kudos! :)  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.  
> Enjoy!

374 F.A.

In deep concentration Andreth sorted the chamomile flowers and fennel leaves together. She picked up a few cranberries and ground them into a thick paste.

Her mind was pleasantly void of any of the worries and disturbing thoughts irritating her lately.

She kept a single-minded focus on her task at hand. The only thing breaking up the silence in the room was Adanel’s soft humming. 

The older woman laid in a large bed propped up by an abundance of pillows, an equal number of heavy blankets and furs covered her lap, barely able to hide her large stomach. She worked lovingly on the stitches of a small patchwork quilt.

Realizing that while her gaze had trailed up observing Adanel she had started neglecting her work. Andreth hastily returned to her task, preparing the herbal infusion.

She grabbed a cup and laid out a clean cloth over it. She scooped up some of the herbal paste she’d been mixing and flopped it down on top of the fabric.

With quick steps she went over to the fireplace in which a small kettle hung over the dimly glowing coals. Returning to the table with the hot water kettle she poured some into the cup, letting the water absorb the healing properties of the plants.

Finished with her task for the moment her gaze trailed back up to Adanel. She looked slightly pale, her face worryingly had thinned over the course of only a few months, even her hair seemed less bright.

Her pregnancy had been very difficult, especially during these final two months.

Her aunt had been childless for a long time so that this almost seemed like a miracle. Despite the overwhelming joy that had permitted the entire household when the pregnancy was announced Andreth couldn't help but feel an increasing sense of dread.

She had taken more and more tasks in place of her aunt, looking after the small herb garden and assisting the villagers who lived under her uncle’s protection should any medical need arise. 

Hesitantly Andreth tested the heat of the steaming cup in front of her. Judging the brew as finished she slowly pulled the cloth out of the cup, fringing it some last drops out of it before putting it aside and walking over to the bed.

‘Adanel?’, she addressed the woman carefully, ‘I finished the infusion.’

The soft humming stopped. Adanel looked up and smiled. Andreth had to suppress a wince, Adanel would never openly show any worry or sorrow. She put her stitching down and took the hot cup.

‘Thank you, my dear!’

‘Chamomile flowers, fennel and cranberries. For the baby! I thought it would do you good.’

Adanel nodded approvingly and took a careful sip from the hot drink.

Andreth began to fiddle with the fabric of her skirt, missing a distraction after she finished her task. Nervously, she chewed on her lower lip. 

While taking small interspersed sips from the cup, Adanel lowered her gaze back to the fabric she’d been working on. Affectionately she caressed the patchwork of coloured cloth with the tips of her fingers.

When she began to speak her voice was thoughtful.

‘You worry a lot, Andreth.’

It wasn’t a question. Andreth forced her hands to let go of her skirt and failing to keep them still she had to forcefully relax each finger separately. 

‘No! … I mean of course I’m worried. It won’t be an easy birth but…’ 

Her voice had started to waver. She forcefully shut her mouth.

‘I know you are still young, but you are talented and have greatly improved over the last year.’ 

Adanel raised her gaze back up to Andreth, looking her directly in the eyes.

‘I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy. But you have helped me midwife before. This won’t be any different.’

‘But!’, Andreth immediately interrupted her, ‘You were with me then! And I only helped. I’m not ready yet. What if something goes wrong and I-I don’t know what to do or… freeze up!’

Adanel grabbed her hands, stopping them from shaking and softly enveloped them with her own. Her usually serene face showing concern as she said:

‘No! Andreth, no. Do not think about failure before you even tried! You know everything that you need to know.’

Her face turns gentle again she reached up and cupped Andreth’s cheek.

‘And don’t forget you won’t be alone. I have to be there after all, or you won’t have a baby to deliver.’

Slowly Andreth nodded, taking a deep breath she pushed the worry and fear back down.

‘Now!’, Adanel said suddenly cheerful again. She took her sewing back up. 

‘I’m still missing some fabric. Do you think you could give me something of yours?’

Andreth felt a feeling of warmth rising in her chest. It was tradition for an expecting mother to create a quilt for her child out of pieces of fabric belonging to close family. 

‘I’m honoured’, she whispered,‘I…’

‘Andreth,’ Adanel said admonishingly, ‘You are family, related by blood. My husband’s niece in fact. You have been as a daughter to me for nearly five years by now.’

Andreth couldn’t help but smile widely at Adanel. She nodded fervently.

‘Yes. I have a few older dresses that won’t fit me anymore.’

Adanel answered her with another warm smile.

‘Then go fetch them, so that we can pick a nice patch of fabric!’

Hastily Andreth spun around and hurried off to her own room, looking for her old dresses.

* * *

The bright cloth of the bed linen was stained red. The dim candlelight didn’t reveal any colours; however, the dark, wet and sticky fabric left no doubt in Andreth’s mind that it was soaked in blood.

Adanel’s water had broken rather abruptly. She had barely finished her quilt a mere day ago. It was just as if the unborn child had sensed this and decided that this meant it was time. 

Adanel’s pressed screams had long since turned into hard laboured breaths.

The small wet body of the child lay heavy in Andreth’s arms. She stared down at the infant. His skin was an unnatural bluish grey tint and he was terribly still. Exhaustion dimmed her vision, smudging it at the edges.

He was so silent. He was supposed to scream.

She pulled the infant closer slowly clapping his back. Trying to startle him awake.

Why was he silent?!

‘Breathe, breathe, please breathe…’ 

Only belatedly did she realise that the desperate whispers were her own.

A sob broke the otherwise dreadful silence filling the room. Andreth’s breath stuck in her throat.

Adanel. She would know what the silence meant.

No, no, no, no, no… The birth had been hard.

On multiple occasions Andreth had nearly panicked and frozen.

But in between her pain filled screams Adanel had gritted her teeth and with a voice full of authority told her what to do.

To hear her broken sobs now tore Andreth’s heart to pieces.

No, no… You must breathe. You must!

‘Breathe, breathe!’ 

Swiftly she put the still body down on the bed. Grabbing his tiny limbs, she began to rub them trying keep his heart beating, his blood flowing.

Carefully she took hold of his tiny, scrunched up face and softly bowed a flat breath inside his tiny body. Going back to rubbing his soft body she tried to keep her voice from shaking as she whispered:

'You have to breathe. Please, please…'

The beats of her heart droned on in her ears nearly deafening her. She forced herself to stay focused. No matter what she had to try.

She wouldn't accept failure before she had even tried. Her vision had become more and more blurry, the thundering in her head had become a stabbing pain.

Her heart nearly leaped out of her throat when the cries filled the room. The sudden wetness on her cheeks betrayed her tears. A strange nearly deranged laughter left her dry throat. The soft cries increased in volume, transforming into loud indignant screams.

A pair of arms reach past Andreth. Geldir quickly carefully wrapped the child into clean linen cloth and before stepping over to Adanel and giving her her son.

The screams continued to fill the room, as if now that he had found his voice, he couldn't stop using it. 

In a daze she realised that she was sitting on the floor. Her tired mind needing some time to catch up with what was happening around her. Andreth looked up at Adanel.

She held her child in her arms, slowly rocking him back and forth, humming a soft melody. Her face looked tired, almost gaunt.

But her eyes!

Despite the dark skin under them and the tear streaks on her cheeks. They seemed to shine as she smiled down and cooed at her baby. His screams had started to subside as he looked up at his mother's face.

Adanel's son! Belemir must be so proud…

The loud crash of the door being thrown open interrupted Andreth's thoughts.

As if they had summoned him, her uncle stormed into the room. The noise reignited the babe's screaming.

Belemir abruptly stopped in his tracks. He stared at his wife and their child. A look of shock and wonder on his usually stern and controlled features. Adanel raised her head looking up at her husband. 

'Look at him! Our son! He is beautiful!' 

As if her voice had freed him from his petrified state, he rushed forward scrabbling to his wife's side a relieved laugh leaving his throat.

Andreth jumped as a hand grabbed her elbow pulling her to her feet. Looking up she saw Geldir guiding her to the door.

'Come, let me bring you to your room before you fall asleep.'

'Wait', Andreth hesitated as they reached the door. 

'It's fine. I can manage the rest. You are exhausted.'

'No, wait', raising her voice she addressed the couple on the bed.

'What is his name?'

Adanel and Belemir looked both up before looking at each other.

They seemed to share an entire conversation in one single glance in the mysterious way of two people in love. They smiled. Belemir looked back up.

'Beren. His name is Beren.'

Andreth nodded smiling weakly and let Geldir lead her out of the room. The entire way back to her room seemed to pass by in a flash. Later the only thing she would recall after she had left that room was the vague memory of being tucked into bed before drifting of into a deep exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah baby Beren! However, don’t be too excited this of course is not THE Beren, but his maternal grandfather whom he presumably was named after.  
> Like last time there shouldn't really be any vocabulary necessary to explain.  
> At this point Andreth should be around 13 years old. Adanel is 34, which by modern standards is of course no where near to old to be pregnant. However, considering the patriarchal society they are living in and the fact that she probably got married somewhere in between her late teens and early twenties, Andreth would likely think of her having been childless for a very long time.  
> The chamomile, fennel and cranberry infusion Andreth mixed this chapter is one of many variations of herbal teas/infusions used throughout history by pregnant women to subsidise important nutrients and vitamins.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An increasing sense of unrest enters into the house of her uncle. Andreth learns about the many dangers lurking in Beleriand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone to leave a kudos such as Starsanddoom and all the guests.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.  
> Enjoy!

376 F.A.

Over the course of the evening the storm had calmed. The howling of the winds outside had died down to a far away sound. Sequestered away close to the great hearth, Andreth sat together with her aunt.

Adanel sat across from her, bouncing a gleeful Beren on her lap. The severe exhaustion of her taxing pregnancy was nearly completely gone. Her son was giggling, grabbing widely with his pudgy hands for his mother’s long hair.

Andreth couldn’t help but smile at the simple bliss on Adanel’s face. However, deep inside her she felt again the old bitterness rise again. Frustrated she forced these unwelcome feelings back down. Adanel did not deserve her scorn…

Nor did Geldir. 

Sighing softly, she turned her gaze to the hearth. Watching the flames would calm her emotions and empty her mind.

Since her friend had departed at the beginning of this fall, she felt increasingly lonely and isolated. She couldn’t blame Geldir. She had left to wed someone from the House of Malach. Amleth or Amlach, something like that… 

Geldir had been so happy when Adanel had offered her that proposal. 

Andreth could have expected this to happen. Geldir was older than her, of marriageable age and had always wished for a family of her own. 

At the announcement Andreth had mostly felt joy for her friend… with maybe a little sadness at the prospect of Geldir leaving. But as the weeks went by and fall had shifted into winter that sadness had turned into anger and frustration. And in especially lonely moments she couldn’t help but blame those people she held dear.

Geldir for leaving and Adanel for arranging it.

Pushing these insidious thoughts aside she focused on the flames licking across wood and brick walls of the hearth. They seemed to dance on top of the logs, rising up and down in an unfathomable rhythm. Finally, as the heat began to burn in her eyes, she had to avert her eyes and blink away tears.

‘Yey! Rida! Rida!’

Beren’s excited squeals pulled her attention back to Adanel. The older woman flashed her a small smile before turning back to her son. 

‘You want the Rider’s song? Hip, Hop?’

‘Hip! Hop! Hip! Hop!’ 

He began to bounce impatiently up and down.

Adanel’s laughter rang clear as she grabbed him to keep him from falling off. Then she began to sing, all the while bouncing her knees in a steady rhythm, imitating the gait of a horse.

Recognizing the melody, Andreth allowed herself a smile. She caught Beren’s joyful eyes and began rocking back and forth in time with the rhythm, humming along.

‘Hip! Hop!

His cloak goes speckle, speckle,

Ridding out in all his mettle.’

Hip! Hop! 

looking far and wide

For game of every hide!

Hip! Hop! 

The Rider’s out to hunt

and he found the runt!’

At the final line of the song Adanel grabbed Beren firmly at his sides tickling him. His excited laughter and squeals filled the hall. 

Andreth grinned widely at the pair. She used to love this play-song. She vaguely remembered pestering her father for it, same as Beren did now.

Even though Adanel’s clear voice was nothing like the deep gruff one she remembered, every time she heard it, she couldn’t help feeling a little more at home. The song reminded her of a time in which she had known without the shadow of a doubt that she belonged. That nobody would ever send her away...

Before Beren could start demanding the song anew, the door slammed open and her uncle marched in. He still wore his heavy winter cloak, dusted with white powdery snow, his pants were stained from riding and his boots left muddy footprints behind. Seeing her husband’s serious expression, Adanel immediately calmed Beren down with a few soft shushing noises, before looking back up.

‘You met with the messenger. They brought ill news.’

Her calm voice made clear that she was not asking a question.

Andreth looked on, feeling confused. She had no idea what messenger her aunt was talking about.

‘I did.’

Belemir did not continue immediately.

He sank down on one knee greeting his son with a tired smile, ruffling his brown hair with a large hand. Beren’s small rosy face opened wide as he smiled brightly at his father. When Belemir finally started to speak again he didn't look up but kept his gaze firmly on the small boy on Adanel’s lap.

‘The news they brought are not bad by themselves. They speak of victories against the enemy. However, I am worried about what they do not say.’

For a moment a heavy silence hung between the couple.

‘Tell me.’

‘They spoke of the Haladin’s victory at the Gelion and Ascar last fall. They fought for seven days before receiving support from the Eldar Lord of Thargelion. Together, they drove the orc hordes back to their fetched master.’

Adanel frowned.

‘This is what worries you so?’

Belemir looked up at his wife before slowly letting his gaze trail over to Andreth. Nervously she locked down to her feet.

‘I think we better continue this conver-’

‘No’, Adanel’s firm response seemed to startle Belemir as much as it did Andreth.

‘She is old enough. Let her listen.’

Belemir nodded slowly, acquiescing to his wife’s demand before mustering Andreth critically. She couldn’t help skirming in her seat under his stern gaze.

‘Very well.’ 

He stood up from his kneeling position and took a seat next to his wife, stretching long tired legs out in front of him.

‘They speak of a victory but leave out why the Haladin are on this side of the Ered Lindon. Nor do they address the fact that they were waylaid in the first place. Nor that they were trapped between the Gelion and Ascar, only being saved by the Eldar after seven whole days.’

Confusion filled Andreth, hesitantly she asked:

‘I don’t understand why this is so worrisome… I mean there was a battle, but everything worked out in the end, didn’t it?’  
Unexpectedly Adanel was the one to answer.

‘This means that the black foe is capable of sending his forces far south.’

Belemir nodded sombrely.

‘Orc raids have been steadily increasing over the last decade. And obviously they have grown a lot bolder to accost our brethren so far south into elven territory. There are even rumours of spies being send out to live among us.’

His face morphed into scowl, before he said:

‘The Eldar promised us their protection. They call it the Long peace. But considering how many orcs seem to be slipping past their so-called siege…’

He trailed off at the stern look Adanel gave him.

With visible exhaustion he rubbed his hands over his face, before standing again. he gave his wife an apologetic look.

‘I’m filthy and tired, Adanel. Let us speak off it another time.’

Her gaze turned soft again as she nodded.

Silently waiting until Belemir left the hall, Andreth fidgeted with the fabric of her skirt, while Adanel turned her focus back on little Beren. As his parent’s attention had turned away from him during the conversation, he had become drowsy and seemed barely able to stay awake. 

For a moment after the door fell shut the silence lingered, until Adanel broke it.

‘Andreth’

At her name she looked back up at her aunt.

‘Last week I received a letter from your father.’

Andreth forced her face to remain still, hiding the unease underneath.

‘He shares a lot of your uncle’s worries. I think it will soon be time for you to return home.’

Unable to contain her shock, she blurted out:

‘He asked for me to come home?!’

She couldn't help cringing internally at her own shrill voice.

‘No, but he did not have to. It was clear from his concern for you that he wishes to see you again. It would be best for you to return sooner rather than later as travel is becoming more dangerous and I’ve taught you most of the skills you need to become a wisewoman.’

‘So, you done with me and sending me away?!’

Her voice cracked at the last word. Blinking away tears she stared past her aunt, not wanting to meet her gaze.

Adanel was sending her away. No wonder, now that she had a child of her own why should she care for that of another? Why should she want her here?

Pushing out a shaky breath, she forced herself to let go of those insidious thoughts.

When a cool hand fell on her shoulder she flinched. She hadn’t noticed that Adanel had stood up and walked over. Beren was softly snoring in her arms completely oblivious to his surroundings.

‘Oh, Andreth. I’m not sending you away. I’m offering you an opportunity to go home to your family.

But if you wish to stay you can.’

Not trusting her own voice, she could only nod.

‘I know that being send here so young was not easy. But please don’t hold it against your father. He only wishes the best for you… And even if you cannot bring yourself to forgive him, don’t forget your siblings. I have kept you long enough. You have a right to know them. Please, do not let this keep you separate from them!’

She barely managed a weak smile, as she nodded again.

Adanel pushed her hair back from her forehead before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head. She smiled down at her.

‘I’m putting Beren to bed now.

But… think about it. You do not have to decide yet. Travelling during this season is to risky anyway. Should you wish to return you can do so coming spring.’

Carefully regathering little Beren in her arms Adanel turned away and walked to the door, all the while humming a soft melody.

Andreth kept her gaze trained on the flames. They had nearly died down, only flickering dimly over the wood in the hearth.

At the low thump of the closing of the door, she could barely contain her sob.

Frustrated she pushed down her tears, rubbing the sleeve of her dress over her eyes. Breathing in deeply, she tried to keep her emotions from running wild.

Adanel was right she should think about this calmly.

During the first few years she had cried many nights wishing pointlessly that her father would show up and reveal that it had all been a mistake. That she could go home.

As time went on and he hadn’t shown up, she had found herself wishing that he would have send Beril away in her stead.

At thoughts of her sister she forced herself to dig back through her long-buried childhood memories.

She vaguely remembered a time in which she had carelessly run through her father’s house, causing mischief. At the beginning her brother Bregor had been her constant companion, they had played pretend and spun wild tales of brave warriors fighting evil monsters and chasing noble elven princesses through a mystical forest.

As time went on Bregor had started learning weaponry. After that she started playing with Beril. She missed her brother, and despite the bitterness toward her sister she found herself also missing her.

Maybe Adanel was also right about them.

Maybe she should go... home.

It was strange how despite having spent near to half her life in the house of Belemir and Adanel she had stopped referring to her father’s house as home.Forcing herself to take another deep breath she made her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Andreth is about 15 y/o, Beren is 2 y/o.  
> The song is loosely inspired by a German children song called “Hoppe, Hoppe, Reiter” (Hoppe, Hoppe, Rider) in which you bounce a child on your lap while singing until you pretend to drop them at the final verse. “Dann macht der Reiter – Plumps” (Then the rider makes – thumps)
> 
> This time around there are actually a few vocabulary words to explain.
> 
> House of Malach – one of the houses of the Edain (humans), Adanel originally was a member of this house
> 
> Amleth or Amlach – you can probably find these names somewhere in a family tree of the Malach, but in this case they do not designate a specific member 
> 
> Haladin – the House of Haladin, or as known from now on the House of Haleth, after Haleth who after her father’s and brother’s death took up arms and became the chieftain of her people
> 
> the Gelion and Ascar – two rivers towards the east of Beleriand, the battle where the Haladin were besieged by orcs is often referred to as the Gelion-Ascar stockade
> 
> the Eldar Lord of Thargelion – this of course is Caranthir 
> 
> Enemy, black foe (and every reference to a vague adversary) – Morgoth/Melkor
> 
> Ered Lindon – the Blue Mountains separating Beleriand from the rest of Middle Earth
> 
> The Long Peace – the 400ish time period during which the elves besieged Angband


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making her decision to return to her father’s house, Andreth departs her aunt’s home in early spring. However, she will soon discover that Beleriand has grown dark and dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter! While I have made and will make no promises for weekly chapters I do try to keep the upload regular.
> 
> To CassioP, Kendrix, sinecorde and all the guest many thanks for the kudos!  
> And to starlightwalking and kendrix a huge thank you for commenting!  
> It's great to hear that the slow biographical approach to the story is working  
> I’m happy you like the small references to what’s happening in other places. It’s nice to know that it is working 😊
> 
> Also, a small content warning for some uncomfortable/disgusting descriptions this chapter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.  
> Enjoy!

377 F.A.

The instance that the first spring birds returned to Dorthonion a messenger was sent out to her father’s hold to inform him of Andreth’s return. 

Despite her decision to go home, during the long dark winter months her resolve had started wavering. However, the mere thought of Adanel’s disappointment kept her from telling her aunt that she changed her mind. 

A week after the messenger left, Breor returned. The old sword master had been sent to escort her on the way back. 

When the giant burly man had first ridden into the courtyard, she had barely been able to recognize him. But one look into the gruff, stern visage had jolted her memory and she recalled the old warrior who had taught her to ride and handle a knife. 

Even the memory of how he had been the one to steal her brother’s time with fighting lessons couldn’t quench her joy. 

She had been so excited to recognize a long-forgotten part of her early childhood she had thrown her arms around him in a hug. His surprised grunt could not deter her, his stoic gruff behaviour filled her with the warm familiarity of home.

They had ridden out the following morning accompanied by three warriors of her uncle’ household, Balan, Emlir and Amlath. 

Despite her many years living in the same place she had barely met these men as they had been constantly on scouting missions or protecting villages in her uncle’s name.

Balan was nearly as old as Breor, his dark hair turning grey at his temples. Emlir was only slightly younger, both men were respectful but formal. Amlath, by far the youngest, only five or six years her senior, was the most jovial and talkative. 

However, by the second day of travel she did not feel like humouring him and kept to herself. 

She rode at Breor’s side whose confident silence calmed her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of the afternoon air, enjoying the warm spring sun on her skin. 

The winter had lasted longer than expected and had stretched long through the wild highlands of Dorthonion. The soft sway of the warm body underneath her lulled her into a dreamy trance. She lost herself in the feel of the cool breeze blowing over her face and the warm heat of the afternoon sun on her skin.

Suddenly, with a jolt her horse came to a stand. Her eyes sprang open. Breor had gripped her horse's reins. Confused she looked at the burly man.

‘What…’

That was when she smelled it. Abruptly she closed her mouth, trying to stifle a gag. 

The disgustingly sweet smell of rotten eggs swept towards her through the soft spring breeze. Clapping her hand over her mouth and nose, she tried to flatten her breaths to keep her stomach from heaving.

Dreading what she would see she followed Breor’s gaze to the front of their little company.

The bodies laid thrown about the meadow. It was impossible to tell how many at first glance. They did not seem to be entirely… intact. A cold shudder ran down Andreth’s spine.

In front of them Balan had swung down from his horse, only hesitating an instant she followed his lead.

‘What do you think that you are doing!’

Breor’s voice boomed behind her, followed by a loud thud when his heavy boots hit the muddy ground next to his horse. 

‘I know some herbs. Maybe I can help any survivors?’

Silently she cursed the trembling in her voice.

Breor shot a sceptical look towards the meadow. Anxiously Andreth swallowed, immediately regretting her proposal, she could taste the foul smell of rotten flesh in the air.

‘I do not think that any herbs can heal the dead.’

Before she could retort anything Breor continued stoically.

‘Stay close behind me and keep your horse near.’

With a quick sign in Amlath’s direction he began marching towards the gruelling scene. Andreth hastily gathered her skirts with her left hand, grabbing the reins with her right before hurrying after the big man, with Amlath following them close behind. 

When she stepped into the meadow and beheld the butchering, she wished she had stayed behind. 

It became undoubtedly clear to Andreth that Breor had been right. None of the men lying strewn about in the melting snow could be saved by even the highest elven healing. 

Forcing herself to look close at the horrific scene, she observed the torn apart remains. One of the men, bearly older than herself was nearly torn in two at the hip. Another’s face was a mangled mess of flesh and bone. In morbid fascination she observed the flies swirling around the rotting flesh, landing in the open wounds, eating their fill and laying their eggs. She knew if she looked closer, she would be able to see maggot’s squirming in the flesh.

Distantly, she noted that there seemed to be a strange lack of blood. Except for the blood-soaked rags that had been their clothing no blood could be seen. From her training in the healing arts she knew that if several people had bled out in this one spot the earth should be drenched red. 

Balan and Emlir stood in the middle of the butchering. The older of the two crouched next to one of the corpses turning the body around to look at its face. His words were the first to pierce through the tense silent hanging over the forest. 

‘They must have been messengers. Either bound to or from Boromir’s House.’

‘To. During late winter no messengers went missing. They must have come from Hithlum. Set on by agents of the enemy’

At Breor’s answer Andreth raised her voice frustrated by the confusion their short exchange created to her.

‘How can you be so sure of these things? They could be hunters from a homestead in Dorthonion? There could have been an accident!’

Only now taking note of her presence Balan shot a sceptical look at Breor, whose stoic expression remained unchanged. However, he did not voice his clear scepticism about allowing her near the massacre.

Breor answered her question.

‘They passed by during late winter. Only messengers would travel these paths during that season. They were waylaid. Their bodies show that there was a fight. No beast could cause these wounds, only blades.’

‘But, if they died in winter should they not be more… more…’

Her voice trailed off, frustration at her own weakness filled her as she forced herself to complete her sentence.

‘More… decayed?’

Hesitantly she nodded.

Breor didn’t show any sign of noticing her distress.

‘The corpses have completely bled out. If the wounds were fresh there would be more blood. The snow has only been starting to melt recently. They must have been covered by it until spring and now they start to rot.’

Before he could further elaborate on his explanation a loud thud interrupted them. 

Alarmed Andreth spun around, to see with a gasp of shock that Amlath had kicked one of the corpses lying on the outskirts of the meadow. 

‘Damn maggot-faced slithering fa-’

‘Amlath!’, concerned Emlir interrupted the young man’s angry tirade.

Andreth stared at him. How could he just kick the dea-d… Her gaze trailed down to the body he had brutally kicked, and terror filled her. 

The force of his kicks had turned the corpse around so that she could see his face. He… It was not human! 

Its greyish patchy skin was pulled taunt over its grotesque features. Its yellow eyes sitting deep in their socket stared aimlessly into the sky. The shape of its ears was elongated and ended into points, disturbingly reminding her of the elves.

Cold realisation swept over her. This had to be an orc.

Breor was right. There had been a fight. An orc attack!

She had been afraid on multiple occasions in her life but never had she felt such pure exhilarating panic. Her heart beat uncontrollably in her chest. 

A vague memory came to her. Adanel at the hearth, little Beren in her lap. Belemir sitting next to them. Bringing news of orc attacks. Of orcs pushing further into their lands.

Despite listening to that conversation all these months ago and being aware of the black foe lurking in the North, she had never considered the true danger of the world… not truly. 

She had always thought that the Eldar would keep them all safe. 

But, if orcs could be hiding in every corner… her gaze flicked over the corpses, to the shadows underneath the trees. What had seemed sheltering and peaceful only a few moments ago, became a terrifying place in her mind.

‘Andreth.’

The sound of her name snapped her out of her panicked state. Her frantic breath caught in her throat as she stared up at Breor. Gently he laid his hand on her arm pulling her closer to her horse. After easily lifting her up into her saddle he swung onto his own. In a stern voice leaving no room for argument he addressed Balan.

‘You and Emlir stay here. Gather as much information as you can, then catch up with us!’ 

Turning to Amlath he snapped:

‘You! Get your horse! If you can’t keep your temper, then you are of no use here! Follow me!’

Then he spurned his horse on and guided them away from the death and horror filled meadow. 

Andreth gripped the saddle horn convulsively. Breor had kept her reins, guiding her stead close behind him. Instead of the annoyance that would usually fill her at such a patronizing act she couldn’t help but feel thankful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Andreth is about 16 y/o.
> 
> Hithlum – region under Fingolfin’s rule, situated to the left of Dorthonion, during the Long Peace the Edain of the House of Malach predominantly lived there


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After many years away from home, Andreth finally returns to her father's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to for all the guests who left a kudos!  
> And an extra thanks to starlightwalking and Kendrix for leaving a comment!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, setting or plots of the Silmarillion or any other related works by Tolkien.  
> Enjoy!

When Breor had finally decided to stop and wait for Balan and Emlir to catch up with them, he barked at Amlath to keep watch and carefully approached Andreth.

She avoided his worried gaze focusing all of her attention on the gelding she had been given to ride on their journey. She ran her fingers through his soft coat, seeking comfort from the calm creature. 

Amid his many worried glances, an old memory had come back to her.

With fondness she recalled how Bregor and she would nickname him the old Bear, for his imposing size and stern demeanour, but now the old Bear revealed himself as a protective mother bear. 

Balan and Emlir joined them at sunset. She could not tell how long they had waited.

It could have been only a few minutes or three hours she couldn’t tell. 

Boron, as she decided to call her horse, for his reliable and strong steps, seemed to become annoyed by her constant petting. Jerking his head away, he tried to avoid her fingers. 

Reluctantly she left him his space, without his distraction she was forced to acknowledge the dark woods around them. 

The surrounding trees, still mostly bare from the recent winter months, seemed to reach high into the sky, blocking out the last remnants of daylight.

A cold chill ran down her back as the night set slowly in. Every child knew that the night brought monsters and terrors. At night the dark enemy reigned.

Breor brought her dry bread and cold meat, explaining that they couldn’t risk a fire to give away their presence. She barely managed to eat the meagre rations, every bite she took tasted like bile.

However, as Breor continued to fuss around her and his worry became more and more apparent, she forced herself to swallow and eat the rest of her portion.

Slowly she started taking notice of her companions. Amlath was keeping watch at the edge of their small camp, while Balan and Emlir seemed busy gulfing down their food. Despite the familiarity of their small camp, it was near impossible not to feel the tensions lying over all of them.

Having finished her food, she reached for her beddings fastened to the back of Boron’s saddle.

‘No’, Breor told her, ‘We are only resting shortly to eat. We are travelling through the night.’

At her bewildered look he responded softly:

‘Balan and Emlir found tracks of at least ten orcs. But there was only one dead orc. They could still be around, and we don’t want to be surprised by them at night. Not with you to worry about.’

Andreth felt herself grow cold again. There could be nine orcs running around, waiting to kill them. Hack them all to pieces as they did these poor messengers.

Sensing her shock Breor went further to explain to her that orcs did not ride. On horseback they would be able to outrun them with ease.

Putting his large, ruff hand on hers he told her in a calming voice.

‘Don’t fret Andreth. Travelling through the night will mean that by tomorrow you will be home again.’

She managed a small smile at his efforts to comfort her.

It conjured a vague memory of how her father would tuck her into bed when she was afraid of the dark of night.

In a way this was much the same. She was afraid of the dark now too… 

But this time it was not the dark of dreams and the monsters of children’s tales that she dreaded but the dark of the night. There were real monsters with real blades hiding in the shadows of the trees.

After everyone had finished their meal, they all mounted back up and continued their travel through the dark woods. Almost wistfully she thought of how the peaceful calm of the forest could turn to maliciousness over the course of only half a day.

* * *

As the sun rose high over the treetops, bathing the world into a warm golden sheen, their company rode through the small wooden gate into the courtyard of her childhood home.

Since making her decision, Andreth had imagined what it would be like to return home. To step into her old home. What she would see. How it would smell. Who would be there to greet her?

A strange measure of disappointment took hold of her as she took in the homestead of the chieftain of the House of Beor.

Despite its relative grandeur compared to her uncle’s house it seemed small… almost common. 

The wide courtyard was clean and orderly, but nearly empty. A few people were hurrying over the wide empty place, busy with their morning duties.

It was strange. Andreth had imagined all of it to feel familiar, to feel like home. However, despite all her memories of this place, it seemed foreign and strange.

As they reached the middle of the courtyard and dismounted, people started to take notice. They must have recognised Breor and realised who they were, who she was…

she could not believe that somebody would recognise her.

Slowly the realisation sept in that she would meet her family now.

Seeking comfort again, she began stroking her fingers through Boron’s thick mane.

When some of the stable boys stepped forward guiding their horses away towards the stables, she began to fiddle with the wooden clasp of her cloak, nervously trying to evade any of the glances thrown her way.

No. Stop it.

She chided herself as the memory of her father rose in her mind.

Him sitting next to her sending her to sleep, telling her he will send her away. She had been a little girl then.

But she was not one now! Taking a deep she forced her hands down, clasping them together, she raised her chin, to imitate Adanel’s dignified posture. Looking up to the door of the main hall, she had to force herself to remain calm.

Her father was standing on the steps leading up to the entrance. Slightly behind him stood a young girl with rosy cheeks and dark hair. Beril.

With a growing sense of dread, she watched them walk towards her. Determined not to show her nerves she stood still watching them wordlessly.

When her father came to stand before her. She realised with some surprise that the man before her was nowhere near the imposing figure she remembered.

He was barely a head taller than her, his face tired and worn and grey speckled his temples. 

‘Andreth’

The warmth and fondness which filled his voice nearly overwhelmed her.

‘Father… I-’

Before she could even find her next words, he pulled her into a tight hug.

With a sense of wonder she realised that she recognised the warm comfort of his arms around her. For only a moment she felt the familiar comfort of home.

Slight disappointment filled her as he pulled away only after a short instance. Looking into her face he smiled.

‘Welcome home, daughter!’

But before she could respond, she felt his attention shift. His gaze drifted to her left. She knew that Breor stood behind her, which was immediately confirmed when she heard his deep voice behind her.

‘My Lord.’

Her father immediately walked over to the large man barely sparing her another glance.

The wonder and joy she had felt only a few moments before turned sour in her stomach.

She could have cried. Maybe she would have if they hadn’t been in the courtyard in front of everybody.

Instead she swallowed the bitterness down again and gave Beril a small smile.

Her sister stood in front of her answering her with a nervous smile of her own.

Her long hair hung unkempt down her back, her warm amber eyes sparkling bright with joy. 

‘Welcome home, sister!’, her excited words sounded shrill in Andreth’s ears. unable to check her excitement Beril grabbed her hands tight. 

‘I’ve been waiting for so soo long to meet you! I wish father allowed me to travel, I would have visited you all the time, I swear…’

Giving her another mild smile, Andreth couldn’t help but strain her ears to listen to her father and Breor’s conversation.

‘...Four men. They must have come from Hithlum… Dor-lómin or maybe Nevrast.’

Breor must be telling him about the dead messengers. Turning her head slightly she focused on her father’s response.

‘... entire region has been growing more dangerous… only yesterday… a rumour about orcs... We need to send for-’

Her concentration was immediately broken when Beril dropped her hands.

Belatedly she realised that her sister had fallen silent.

The young girl was nearly chewing on her lip. Guilt swept through Andreth as she realised her thoughtlessness, but before she could speak, Beril began:

‘I’m sorry. I know I talk too much, but I was just so excited to see you and …’

Quickly she grabbed Beril’s hands again, trying to reassure the younger girl.

‘No! Please don’t apologise. I’m just tired of the journey, we’ve ridden the entire night.’

Beril gave her a slight smile and nodded.

Stealing a look back to the house she asked:

‘Where is Bregor?’

As Beril answered she couldn’t help noticing the disappointment in her eyes, realising she had said the wrong thing.

‘He is out on one of the patrols.’

Worry immediately flooded her, rushing through her like cold water. There were orcs out there in the forest. The image of the rotting corpse filled her mind. The open flesh grey from the cold filled with flies and maggots… Why would Bregor go outside of the homestead? 

Trying to rein in her panic she let herself be ushered into the house by one of the servant women. Somewhere on the way she lost sight of Beril. 

‘Here, my lady.’ The formal address with which the servant showed her the door to her room surprised her.

While in some part of her mind she knew it to be the proper way, uncle Belemir’s household had been so small that nobody had really bothered with such formalities and when she still lived in this house she had been too young to be considered a lady.

Giving the waiting woman a courteous nod, she entered her room. As soon as the door closed behind her with a soft thud, she left out a long breath.

Unclasping her heavy cloak, she carelessly led it fall to the ground. Looking longingly at the bed she sat down in the chair next to the window, deciding not to sully the sheets with her muddy, travel worn clothes.

Tired she let her gaze trail over the quiet room. It was nearly empty besides the bed, heavy chest and small desk and the chair she was sitting on.

Even this room didn’t seem to be able to kindle any of the familiar feelings of home she had wished for…

With a start she sat up straight. Blinking a few times as the light of the bright late afternoon sun shone into her eyes, she realised that she must have fallen asleep where she sat. Groaning she stretched her arms trying to ease the stiffness in her neck, no doubt a result from her sleeping position.

The soft noise seeping through the shutters seemed to raise slightly. The neighing of horses alerted her, leaning forward she pushed the shutters open looking down in the yard.

A group of riders had entered through the gate.

The figure next to the leader of the troop immediately caught her attention.

Bregor!

In an instance she recognised her brother. She stood so abruptly that her chair fell over. Ignoring the loud crash, she rushed through the door and hurried down the hall.

Breathlessly she entered the courtyard. In the time she needed to run outside, the horses of the patrol had been led to the stables. Frantically she looked around, searching for her brother…

There! As she spotted him, he turned around and caught her eyes.

Instantly his entire face lit up and she knew he recognised her.

Rushing forward she caught him in a hug. At his slightly surprised but joyful exclamation:

‘Anny!’, her heart immediately warmed.

She had nearly forgotten this old nickname only her brother used to call her.

Despite the strangeness of looking at the young man standing in place of the young ten-year-old boy she remembered, she finally felt the warm familiarity of home she had so desperately hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Beril is 12 y/o and Bregor is 18 y/o.
> 
> Boron (Sindarin) – steadfast 
> 
> Hithlum – region under Fingolfin’s rule, situated to the left of Dorthonion, during the Long Peace the Edain of the House of Malach predominantly lived there   
> Dor-lómin and Nevrast – two smaller regions south of Hithlum


End file.
